Say Live and Let Die
by Ultra-Geek
Summary: Post 5x13. Agent Arthur Pendragon and his team are the best the Agency has to offer. But their boss has started sending them on search and retrieve missions after odd things, like a broken sword. Then comes Chicago, and suddenly the game has changed.
1. Prologue

Title: Say Live and Let Die  
Author: Ultra-Geek/Ultrageekatlarge  
Rating: T  
Summary: Agent Arthur Pendragon and his team of "knights" are the best the Agency has to offer. But their boss has started sending them on search and retrieve missions after odd things, like a broken sword. Then comes Chicago, and everything gets shot straight to hell.  
AN: This goes with a request from shannon423, eilicec, volunteernerdfighter, and an anon over on tumblr, who all wanted modern day post-513 stuff for their prompts for my 300 Followers Fic Fest. Their specific prompts will be listed at the end of the last chapter, when it eventually comes.

Skyfall made me want to write Secret Agent AU. 5x13 made me want to fix everything. Then this happened. So. The bit at the beginning is definitely modeled after the Skyfall Manor. Um. Yeah.

It might be a while between updates, so please stick with me! I've it all outlined out, and like 2/3 of the way written, so there's that.

ON WITH THE FIC.

* * *

Prologue.

* * *

The night was quiet, and it was calm. It was remarkably clear, especially for this far north, and when Arthur looked up he could see nothing but stars scattered through the black, the moon a smiling and bright crescent. He was crouched behind one of the few shrubs that surrounded the manor, which stood lonely and tall next to the rippling loch. In the distance, the hills rolled away to the horizon.

All in all, it was very picturesque, in a deserted and barren sort of way. Arthur wished he could enjoy it. As it was, he had been roused at two in the morning and informed that he and his team were being sent to Scotland for an urgent mission that absolutely had to be completed tonight. If that hadn't been depressing enough, he then had the responsibility of rousing said team and dragging them to the airfield.

His team was less than gracious about it. Well, most of them had been okay, actually, now that Arthur was thinking about it. Some things just came with the job, though runs like this one were generally doled out to junior teams and agents. They knew that. Gwaine, however, had been a downright arse, even more so than usual, and that was truly saying something.

"You know what I need?" Arthur asked.

"What?" Elyan asked, crouched next to Arthur.

"An assistant," said Arthur. "Someone who could deal with Gwaine for me so I'd never have to again."

"Please," said Elyan, smiling. "If anyone ever let you have an assistant, you'd treat 'em like they were your servant."

"I see very little problem with that," said Arthur, giving a one shouldered shrug. Elyan laughed.

"Shall we begin?" Elyan asked. Arthur gave a short nod. Elyan tapped his ear, and said, "Clear at the front. Check in."

"All good here, as well," said Leon a moment later, his voice coming in clear as anything over the earpieces that both Elyan and Arthur had in. He and Lance were on the opposite side of the property. Leon continued, "There's a gamekeeper, but he's asleep in a smaller building near us."

"We're in the highlands in the middle of the night," Gwaine said a moment later. "The only life for miles is us and the million and a half _sheep_ – "

"Percy, hit him," said Arthur.

There was a rustling, and then Gwaine squawking slightly in pain. The link was silent for a long moment until Gwaine, sullenly, said, "Clear here as well."

Arthur looked to Elyan, who nodded. Arthur stood, and said, "Gwaine, with Elyan and I. The rest of you stay put and keep an eye out."

Gwaine was already at the door when Elyan and Arthur came up, staying low. The lack of trees and cover put Arthur on edge, though what Gwaine had said rang true. There was no one around, save the gamekeeper, for as far as the eye could see. Gwaine was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, as Elyan and Arthur drew close.

"It's good you left the others to guard," Gwaine said, as Elyan knelt and picked the lock on the door. "You never know when the sheep may rise for their wooly revenge."

"None of us want to be here, Gwaine, so stop complaining," said Arthur.

"I was in the middle of something important," said Gwaine.

"What was her name?" Elyan asked. The door swung open.

"Elizabeth. Blonde," said Gwaine, wistfully. "Legs that went as far as the eye could see, and –"

"Settle down," said Arthur. "Let's just get what we need and get out."

"And Niniane really didn't tell you what it is we're after," said Elyan.

"No," said Arthur. Their boss never let any information slip, unless she absolutely had to. It was a trait that served her well, in their profession, but made Arthur's life much more difficult on several occasions, especially considering that he'd had full disclosure sort of relationship with her predecessor. Arthur, however, was not one to dwell on the past, and he looked to the mission at hand, and said, "It should be under a loose stone beneath a red chest, main bedroom, off along the right wall."

"Nice and specific," said Elyan. He crept forward, Arthur and Gwaine just behind him. They moved through the old manor, up some stairs, and to an open door, their footsteps uncomfortably loud and echoing in the still quiet of the empty manor. Arthur gestured for Elyan to wait at the door, and he and Gwaine walked in. All of the furniture, as in the rest of the house, was covered in white sheets to keep the dust off.

The red chest, however, was clear, save for the thick layer of dust that covered it.

"I hate castles," muttered Gwaine. "I don't know how anyone ever managed to live in them."

"I don't know," said Arthur. He shoved the chest out of the way and pulled up the loose flagstone. "I can see the appeal. Get a fire going, servants to do your every bidding…it wouldn't be all bad."

"You would say that," said Gwaine.

"Besides," Arthur added. "This is hardly a castle."

"It's big and made of stone," said Gwaine. "Close enough."

Arthur reached down, but the hole went further than he'd realized. He had to lean so his entire arm up to his shoulder was in the hole before he was able to touch bottom. His hand landed on something long and smooth, and when he pulled it out, he could only look down and feel confused. He had expected a flash drive, or a laptop, or some sort of information exchange. He hadn't expected this. Then again, he'd had no reason to think his boss would send him and his team in the middle of the night, on such short notice, for something as odd and seemingly trivial as this.

"Well, what is it?" Gwaine asked. "What was so important?"

"It's a sword," Arthur said. He frowned.

"Are you joking?" Gwaine asked, and when Arthur held it up for him to see, he shook his head. "You're not joking. All the way to Scotland at arse o'clock in the night, and for what? A sword. Lovely. What has this organization come to, I ask you –"

Gwaine continued, but his voice drifted and distorted as Arthur gazed down at the weapon in his hands. He pulled it from it the sheath, the metal ringing out against the leather. It sent a cold shiver down Arthur's spine, the sound of it, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight. The blade was old, and worn, and scratched. There was a chunk of it on one side that was missing entirely. Yet, when Arthur pressed his thumb to the edge, it was still sharp enough to break the skin and make Arthur bleed. He hissed, and wiped the blood onto his trousers.

But as he gazed at it, he couldn't shake the feeling of utter wrongness. Something about this sword, the way the light glinted from it, the bite of the metal against his skin, the missing piece – he couldn't say how, but he had seen this weapon before. He didn't think he had held it, but it seemed familiar in a way, and there was an odd, phantom ache on his stomach, lower down. He pressed his hand against the spot, and –

"_Stay with me."_

Arthur jerked, the words settling in his brain. Gwaine was still prattling on, and Arthur focused back on him just in time to hear him say, "And I – you're not even listening to me, are you?"

"No," Arthur said. He sheathed the blade, and ignored the way his hands trembled ever so slightly.

"What is wrong with you?" Gwaine said.

"Nothing," Arthur said, patting his side. "Just déjà vu."

"Over a sword?"

"Like I said, it's nothing," Arthur answered, and handed the thing to Gwaine as he moved back towards the door. "Let's head out. The others are waiting."

Gwaine, still grumbling, fell into step behind him. "Stupidest mission ever," he said. "Why did all of us even have to come? Bloody useless."

Miles away in a shabby house in Wales, a man sat straight up in his bed. He was covered in a cold sweat and gasping for air.

He sprang from his bed, and pulled on boots and a lumpy wool jacket, and ran out of a door. Had he glanced in a mirror, he may have noticed that the long white hair, the thousands of wrinkles, and the shaggy beard that he had gone to sleep with had all vanished. As it was, so intent was he on getting to his destination he didn't even notice that the aching stiffness of his ancient bones had all but vanished as he jogged through the night.

The water was still and the moon was high when he got to the lake. His breath came out in misted clouds, and his steps were sure on the path though he could scarcely see more than a foot beyond his nose in the darkness. It was hardly the first time he had come this way, after all. No, he knew this path more than he knew his own mind. Especially these days.

She was waiting for him, standing on the shore. Her hair was long and dark, her skin glowing and pale in the darkness. The dress he had given her when they were both young was red as the day it was made, still tattered and torn in some places. In her hands, she held a sword he had not laid eyes on in nearly fifteen hundred years.

He stopped just at the water's edge, and stared at her, his breath coming in sharp gasps. He needed to ask her, but he wasn't sure how to begin. It had been such a long time. Too long a time. It hurt to even hope, these days.

"Your wait is over. He isn't here," she said, and held out the sword for him to take. "Albion is in need. The time has come for the Once and Future King to return to the land."

He fell to his knees on the rocky shore, and he wept.


	2. Chapter 1

Title: Say Live and Let Die  
Author: Ultra-Geek/Ultrageekatlarge  
Rating: T  
Summary: Agent Arthur Pendragon and his team are the best the Agency has to offer. But their boss has started sending them on search and retrieve missions after odd things, like a broken sword. Then comes Chicago, and suddenly the game has changed.  
AN: The first real chapter! In which things are established and Merlin isn't in it. Um. So. He's in the next one?

ON WITH THE FIC.

* * *

Arthur's headache began in the back of his skull. It crept up from the base of his neck towards the crown of his head, spreading to his temples and forehead. He couldn't remember an assignment having gone smoother than this one, and yet he felt like he'd taken several hits to the head in a fight. Except, not quite like that. This felt more like something in the center of his brain was pushing at him. The white noise coming from the plane's engines was hardly helping things, either. Nor was his team.

Speaking of whom…

Arthur opened his eyes and lifted his head from where he'd been reclining in his seat. The plane was one of the Agency's private ones, and so they were the only ones onboard the small aircraft. The others were all sitting in a circle a few rows in front of Arthur, except for Lance who was in the front row and completely asleep. Gwaine had flat out plunked himself down on the floor of the aisle. Elyan had the sword in his hands, and was scanning it with one of his gadgets.

"I'm telling you," he said. "There's nothing electronic here. Nothing hidden, at all."

"So it's just a sword?" asked Percy. He sounded disappointed.

"Well, it's a very old sword," said Elyan. "At least a thousand years, I should think."

They were all quiet for a moment, and for once, it was Percy who broke the silence. "I don't get it," he said, and looked up. "What's so important about this sword?"

"Do you think Arthur knows?" Gwaine asked.

"No," said Leon. "No, Arthur would have told us."

"There is the missing bit," said Elyan. "Maybe there's some sort of code involved with that? Like the broken edge means something."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," said Gwaine. "As a result, you're probably right."

"I just don't get it," Percy repeated. "Last month she had us chasing after – what was it, again? The thing in Istanbul."

They all hummed in agreement. Arthur kept still, simply listening. Istanbul had been nothing but a farce. Niniane had sent them in after an ornate bracelet made of iron, with a large amber stone in the middle of it. Elyan had carried for a while until he took ill and passed out, and then Leon had taken over. But it had only been a matter of hours until he caught whatever Elyan had, and went down as well. Then they'd gotten back to base, and Niniane had taken the thing from them before Arthur could properly check it over, and none of them had heard about or seen the bracelet since.

"And there was Sydney, the month before that," added Lance, stirring and moving to join the others. Arthur stayed stationary and still as Lance continued, "With the swirly disc. The Coin of Necromancy, that old woman called it."

"Remember when we used to go on real missions?" Gwaine said, flicking his hair out of his face. "Back when we actually did things that made a difference instead of going out on treasure hunts all the live long day."

"What's the matter?" Percy asked, elbowing him. "I'd have thought you of all people would love playing Indiana Jones."

"I would, if Niniane would give me a whip and a hat and an explanation," said Gwaine.

"We get our orders, we do our job," said Leon. "You know the way of things."

"He has a point, though," said Lance. "This all just feels very odd, doesn't it?"

"I'm with them," said Elyan. "I wonder why Niniane was so intent on getting this?"

"I don't like it," said Gwaine. "It's suspicious, isn't it? Like she's–"

"That's enough of that," said Arthur, rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and push the headache back. His team all craned their necks to look at him, looking nothing less than school boys caught doing something they shouldn't. Arthur said, "Just because we don't know the reasons doesn't mean they aren't good ones."

In truth, he was wondering the same things as Gwaine, Lance, and Elyan. But it would do no good to question his superiors in front of his team, and so for now, he kept his thoughts under lock and key. Things had changed since Niniane took charge. Many, many things. And Arthur found himself liking less and less of them as time went on.

Gwaine, meanwhile, let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like 'bullshit'. Arthur glared at him, but he only widened his eyes and said, "What?"

Arthur gave him a stern look. He was too tired to push it any further, which was ridiculous. He'd not even broken a sweat over this mission.

"Maybe we should look into it," said Lance. Gwaine was nodding along with him. "I mean, it couldn't hurt any, right?"

"Whatever," said Arthur. "As soon as we land I'm heading home. Just try not to commit treason while you're getting into trouble. Now shut up, the lot of you, and let me sleep."

They grew quiet, dispersing to their individual seats, except for Gwaine. He just stretched out on the floor and stared at the ceiling. But when Arthur closed his eyes again, it seemed that an image of the jagged, broken sword had been branded against the back of his eyelids.

When they landed, Arthur made sure Leon had the broken sword to give to Niniane and instructions to debrief, and dragged himself off to his car. As he was fumbling with his keys, someone called out, "Arthur!"

He looked up to see Elyan jogging after him.

"Are you alright?" asked Elyan. "Because you gave Gwaine – _Gwaine_ – the limit of 'not treason' to occupy him and now are leaving him without supervision."

"I'm fine," said Arthur. "Besides, between you and Lance, you should be able to keep him from breaking too many laws."

Elyan laughed, but then grew serious as he looked at Arthur. "Do you want a ride? No offense, but you look terrible."

"No," said Arthur, climbing in and forcing a smile. His whole face felt like it hurt, spreading up from his eyes and throbbing towards the back of his skull, bouncing between his temples. "I'll be fine. I think I'm just coming down with a cold or something."

Still, the drive home was torturous. Arthur kept the windows down, and still he felt his eyelids drawing downwards, felt himself nodding off from time to time. He would have blared music as well, but his head was still thudding in that odd, painful sort of way.

It was with a staggering amount of relief that he pulled into his parking spot, and dragged himself off into the lift.

When he got to his flat – the penthouse, of course – he kicked the door shut behind him and left his coat pooled on the floor, his shoes kicked off and left scattered on the hardwood. He paused in the kitchen, looking out the window to where the sun was starting to creep over the skyline. He dumped some kibbles in the dog bowl, and whistled. "Dog," he called, unbuttoning his shirt. "Dog, food."

Arthur's dog was a mutt, and all the veterinarian could tell him was that a corgi had been involved at some point in the thing's ancestory. All Arthur knew was that the mutt was a ridiculous patchwork of colors with giant ears, and that he didn't so much walk as waddle. Arthur had been going to name him, but somehow had never gotten around to it. By the time he tried, all the dog would answer to was Dog.

Arthur spent a minute patting Dog as the animal began to gobble down breakfast. His headache wasn't getting any better, though, so he dawdled in the bathroom long enough to toss back a few painkillers, and then staggered to his bed.

Pausing only to strip down to his boxers, Arthur fell face first onto the mattress, and gathered his pillow up with one arm, and sighed. He closed his eyes, and was asleep in a matter of seconds.

* * *

Gwen could only hope that she was in early enough that the corridor would be deserted. Not that it mattered – she probably wouldn't be able to see anyone coming even if they were there.

Over one elbow, her briefcase was hooked, and over her other was her purse. She had a thermos filled with her morning coffee in her right hand and her keys clutched tightly in her left. In her arms, held up precariously beneath her chin, was a stack of files, and on top of the files was a new box of tissues for her office. She could just barely peek over the top of the stack.

She was worrying about the odd sort of balancing act she'd have to pull off upon arriving to her office, but she found the door to be already open. She inched in, and found Gwaine perched on top of her desk, and Lance sitting in her office chair. They both looked up sharply as she hovered in the doorway, and Gwaine's face broke into a smile that guaranteed nothing good could come of any of this.

"Gwen, my darling, apple of my eye," said Gwaine. Lance had a rather pained look on his face. "You look simply ravishing this morning, did you know?"

Gwen's hair hadn't been washed in two days and her clothes were wrinkled. She had her makeup bag in her purse, because she hadn't had the time to put it on before coming in. She peered over the stack in her arms, squinting at Gwaine suspiciously, and said, "You're up to something."

"I'm offended that you'd think so," said Gwaine, but he still had that look about him.

"Ignore him," Lance said, shoving Gwaine so he toppled off of the desk with a small yelp. Lance came over, and relieved her of the stack of files, setting the tissue box on the desk. "Here, let me help you, Miss Smith."

"Thanks, and it's Gwen," said Gwen. "If you could just put those on top of the cabinet."

Lance nodded and did as she asked. Gwen stepped over where Gwaine still sat on the floor, and set her briefcase on her desktop and hung her purse on the coat rack she kept in the back corner of her office.

"You must be here for something," she said, glancing down at her watch. "It's barely eight."

"We had a late run, last night," said Lance.

"To Scotland, yes, I know," said Gwen. Niniane had told her of it, last night, just before Gwen had gone home for the evening. But then a sudden jolt of horror hit her, and she said, "Did something happen? Was someone hurt?"

"Everyone's fine," said Gwaine, finally getting up. "There wasn't even the smallest of problems."

Gwen let out a breath, and said, "Then why were you waiting for me?"

"We were just hoping for some clarifications," said Lance. "And you know how Niniane can get, sometimes, when we start asking questions."

"And you're with her constantly, since you're her assistant, so we thought you might know," said Gwaine.

"You know I can't share information," said Gwen.

"No, we know," said Lance. "We were just wondering if you knew, that is to say –"

"Why all of the bloody treasure hunts?" asked Gwaine. "We've been sent after a sword and a bracelet and a coin thing. We don't get it."

Gwen shrugged, and said, "Sorry. I only know as much as you do. She gives me the specs and I put them together for you."

"Damn," said Gwaine. "You're sure?"

"Positive," said Gwen, but then she paused. Niniane was the boss, but there was always Morgause, her second in command. And besides Niniane, there was really only one other person in the entire Agency who Morgause even bothered to give the time of day to. "You know, I'd go and talk to Morgana. You know how close she and Morgause are."

Gwaine and Lance looked at each other, and then Gwaine whined, "But she's all the way down in Evidence and Retrievals."

"And you have questions about evidence collected while on retrievals," said Gwen. She tossed her coat over desk chair and crossed her arms, giving the agent a hard look. "What's the matter? Are you frightened of Morgana?"

"No," said Lance, but he wouldn't meet Gwen's eyes.

"Of course I am," said Gwaine, cheerfully. "I was raised to have a healthy fear of all women, as every man should."

"Quite right, too," said Gwen, and then clapped her hand to her forehead. "But I forgot – Morgana's out until Monday."

Both Lance and Gwaine shared a glance. "We'll just have to wait, then," said Lance.

"Boo," said Gwaine. He looked to Gwen, "Thank you, all the same."

"Of course," she said, and she smiled, and made a shooing motion with her hand. "Now, off with the both of you. Niniane has a meeting this morning and she was absolutely adamant that I take notes for her."

"You'd best not be late, then," said Lance. He smiled at her. "Thank you for your time, Miss Smith."

"Gwen," she corrected automatically. "Call me Gwen, for the last time."

"Sorry," he said. "Gwen."

Gwaine made a gagging sound and marched from Gwen's office. Lance rolled his eyes and followed Gwaine out.

Gwen shook her head, and began to gather her things together for the day.

* * *

_He's panicking. "I'm not going to lose you!" Arthur can hear his breathing catch, can feel his racing heart, can see his hands shaking. _

"_Just, just," he says, laying his hand over the other, because otherwise he's going to just keep fighting and struggling against this, and Arthur knows there's nothing he can do. Not anymore. "Just hold me. Please."_

_It's getting difficult to breathe, now. Everything's tunneling, fading to black around the edges, but he's not ready to go, yet. He has to…there's…he must…he…_

"_There's something I want to say –"_

"_You're not going to say goodbye."_

"_No," he agrees. It's strange, he thinks. He isn't afraid of dying. He's afraid of leaving his friend here, alone. This is going to break him, Arthur knows, and it's terrifying because there's nothing Arthur can do about it. He forces the words out, and then looks up at that face he thought he'd figured out, and manages the two that mean the most. "Thank you."_

_He gives in to the black, and for one moment, he clings to the voice._

"_Arthur…hey! No! _Arthur_!"_

_He's sliding away. He opens his eyes, but everything's gone dim and dark._

"_Stay with me."_

Arthur jerked awake.

For some reason, he expected to see the sky, trees, the face of the panicking man. His ceiling unnerved him and made him feel penned in and trapped. His clothes were drenched in a cold sweat, and he blinked several times at the dark before it occurred to him that he was crying a little. He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, and stared over at his nightstand where his clock stood. He'd only been asleep for three hours.

Dog had wormed under Arthur's arm, and was whining quietly, snuffling at his face.

Arthur pushed Dog away, and turned onto his side. That same odd, phantom ache was back, and Arthur rubbed a hand against the spot. Eventually, he got up (Dog immediately spread out on the bed) and stumbled to the shower. He let the hot water pound over him, and tried to remember the dream. But it was slipping away like water in cupped hands, and the harder he tried to grasp it the further it fled from him.

He walked out towards his kitchen, and tripped over something. He looked down, and found one of his boots completely ripped and mangled. "Dog!" he yelled.

The only answer he got was the clicking of canine claws against the floor as Dog jumped from the bed and fled for cover. Arthur sighed, and picked up the boot, and dumped it into the rubbish bin. He went in search of the other, and found it similarly destroyed, and binned it as well. It was his own fault, he knew. The only chew toys that Dog acknowledged were shoes, and so usually Arthur left old trainers or sandals lying around, specifically for his stupid dog to chew on.

With his headache, and his exhaustion earlier, Arthur had forgotten to put his boots out of reach.

It didn't make him any less cross. But at least his headache from the day before was gone.

His mobile rang, and Arthur went and answered it.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Gwen asked.

"No," said Arthur.

"Niniane wants you in," she said. "Has another mission for you."

"Wonderful," said Arthur. He hung up the phone, and sighed.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then trudged to his room to ready himself for what promised to be yet another long day and, if history served, another retrieval mission. He went to his closet, and looked at his shirts. The white one was gone. The one with the nice, long ties and the sleeves that he could roll up, that was worn with wear.

After ten minutes of digging, it occurred to him he didn't own a shirt like that.

He shook himself, pulled on something random, and headed to base.

Niniane wasn't very tall, but she still managed to look down at everyone she met. She even managed it with Percy, who stood a good foot and a half taller than her. Her dark hair was always impeccable, her make up doubly so, her pale skin with never a blemish. Sometimes, Arthur found himself becoming unnerved by her deep, blue eyes, almost like she was staring straight through him, seeing things that Arthur couldn't.

Now, standing before her, was one of those times.

"Mr. Pendragon," she said. "Good to see you."

"Ma'am," he said. He flicked his eyes to Gwen, who was straightening papers on the other side of Niniane's office. She didn't look back up at him, too intent on her work.

"I've been told that last night went smoothly?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Arthur. "Without even the smallest hitch."

"Good to hear," she said. "I'd apologize for giving you another run so soon, but needs must. Smith."

Gwen turned, a stack of folders in her hands. She handed them to Arthur, who took them with a nod and a tight smile.

"You'll find the details inside," Niniane said, and picked up a pen. "You're dismissed."

Arthur nodded, and walked from the room. Gwen gave him a small smile as he went. As he walked, Arthur flipped through the folder on the top. It looked the same as the last few missions from Niniane – at least this time, in addition to the location, they were also given a photograph of their target. Of course, that target was just as baffling as the last few.

His headache was threatening to come back. But Arthur shook it off, squared his shoulders, and walked into the conference room where the team was waiting, having been roused by Gwen as Arthur had been. By the looks of some of them, they'd never left the base after returning. All for the best, Arthur figured. They'd be heading out soon enough.

"Another retrieval mission, boys," said Arthur, and dropped the stack of folders to the tabletop. "We're off to Chicago."

"America?" said Leon, opening his packet.

"No. The other Chicago," said Gwaine. This time, he ducked when Percy made to smack the back of his head. He grinned triumphantly, and without even looking up Lance reached over and yanked on his ear. Gwaine jerked away and almost knocked Percy over.

Elyan, meanwhile, took one look at the contents of his folder and looked up at Arthur. "A cup?" he said. "We're being sent across an ocean for a _cup_?"

"I think it's actually a chalice," said Percy, looking at his own. "And it looks like it's made of gold."

"Same difference," said Elyan.

"Right, that simplifies things, at the very least," said Gwaine. They all looked at him. "Here's what I say we do. We can march up and put Arthur in the lead and we'll knock on their door, and he can say he's Arthur and we're the knights and he seeks the Holy Grail. Good to go."

Percy snorted.

"I wish you'd at least try to be serious," said Leon.

"Shan't," answered Gwaine, sticking his nose into the air.

"We could phone MI-6, make them get it out for us," said Elyan, leaning back in his chair. "It's been a while since we watched those monkeys dance. Give the useless mission to the useless agents."

"I second that motion," said Percy. "We can watch the double-0's run around and try and be James Bond. That's always fun."

"Come on, they're just trying to do their jobs," said Lancelot. But even he had a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, but no one bothered to tell them that their jobs are actually our jobs," said Gwaine. "They're nothing but a front, poor, clueless morons –"

"Settle," said Arthur, though he was tempted. It was always a good time to make MI-6 run. But. "Niniane wants us to go. Said that it was very important that nothing went wrong."

"Oh, come on, Arthur, please?" Gwaine said. "We've been good –"

"We're not dishing it off to MI-6, and that's the end of it," said Arthur. "We leave tonight, so be ready to go and on the airfield by six."


	3. Chapter 2

Title: Say Live and Let Die  
Author: Ultra-Geek/Ultrageekatlarge  
Rating: T  
Summary: Agent Arthur Pendragon and his team are the best the Agency has to offer. But their boss has started sending them on search and retrieve missions after odd things, like a broken sword. Then comes Chicago, and suddenly the game has changed.  
AN: Here starts the hunk I like to call 'Gwaine hijacked the story and wouldn't give it back for a while' in which Gwaine hijacks the story and doesn't give it back for a while. I just love Gwaine. He noses into almost all of my fics. And so while, yeah, he was meant to have a larger role in this one than, say, Leon, he wasn't supposed to take up THIS MUCH BUT THAT HANDSOME SONUVABITCH WEASLED HIS WAY INTO MORE SCREENTIME.

ANYWAY.

This chapter got long. Speaking of long, someone was wondering how long this story was looking to be – it's planned for 11 chapters.

ON WITH THE FIC.

* * *

A rainstorm rolled in as they were readying to leave, a pounding deluge that blasted the airfield and made it impossible for them to fly out until the storm cleared.

"Strange, this," said Leon. They were all sitting under an overhang, staring out. "The weather report said we weren't going to have rain for a week."

"We live in Britain," said Elyan, giving him a sideways look. "We always have rain."

"Still," said Leon.

"Well, there's nothing for it," said Arthur. "I'll go speak to Niniane, Assume we're leaving first thing in the morning unless I tell you otherwise."

"It's odd, I tell you," Leon insisted as they moved off inside. "The way it popped out of nowhere. It's more like magic than anything else."

Arthur just shook his head and hurried to Niniane's office. Though he knew she would still be in, there was a part of him – a fairly large part – that was hoping she had already left for the day. As it was, he could see that her light was on, and so he squared his shoulders and walked in. She was leaning against her window, her palms pressed to the glass, watching the rain plunge down. As Arthur moved fully into the room, she hissed out one word.

"_Emrys_."

A crack of thunder made the building literally shake.

"Ma'am?" Arthur said, knocking from where he stood next to the door.

Niniane whirled around to face him. Her eyes were wide, her face pulled in an odd, wild sort of expression. With less than a second, she schooled her expression into the usual blank, emotionless mask that Arthur knew. "Mr. Pendragon," she said. "You're supposed to be gone by now."

"We were," Arthur agreed. "But the storm hit before we could –"

"The storm, of _course_," she said. Her voice was chillingly bitter, and it put Arthur on edge. Turning to her window again, Niniane said, "Awful thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Arthur. He wanted nothing more than to ask what 'Emrys' meant, why Niniane was suddenly so twitchy. But he didn't, because he'd been trained far better than that. "I only wished to inform you that we'd be leaving in the morning instead of tonight. Will that suffice?"

"Well it will have to, won't it?" Niniane said, still looking out the window. "You are dismissed."

Arthur nodded, and started to leave.

"Oh, and Mr. Pendragon, one more thing," Niniane called, looking over her shoulder. Arthur stopped, looking back at her. "I think it would be best if you and your team stayed at the base, tonight."

"Ma'am?"

"So that you may leave as early as possible," she said.

He'd already made arrangements for Dog's feeding and care while he was away, so it made little difference where he slept. "Alright," said Arthur. "I'll inform the team."

Niniane said nothing more as Arthur left, and simply went back to staring out the window. Outside, the rain pelted down like bullets, torn apart by the thunder and slashed through by the lightning.

* * *

Gwen arrived at base the next morning to find that it had, apparently, been the victim of a very localized, very vicious storm during the night. Her home, which was a twenty minute drive away, had been covered only by clear skies all evening. It was the strangest thing, really, but when she tried to say as much to Niniane she only received a very clipped answer and a glare.

Gwen didn't even get into her office until nearly half past ten, and for the second time in as many days found someone waiting for her.

"Morgana," she said, smiling at her friend, who was sitting in Gwen's office chair. "I didn't expect to see you in today."

"I could say the same for you," said Morgana. "Working on a Sunday, Gwen?"

"You know as well as I that weekends are myths around here," said Gwen. "All the same. You're on leave yet, until tomorrow."

Morgana's smile faded. "I didn't expect to come in, either. But I find myself needing your help."

"Whatever I can do," said Gwen.

"I was wondering if you knew what time Arthur is coming in?" Morgana said. "I need to speak with him rather urgently. I tried his phone, but there was no answer. And I can't find any of his lost boys wandering around, either."

"You'll have to wait, I'm afraid," said Gwen. "They've been sent to the States for the time being. Should be back in a few days, I would think."

Whatever sort of reaction Gwen was expecting, it certainly wasn't for Morgana to go completely white and sink to a chair. "So I'm too late," Morgana said, staring down at her hands. Gwen could see them shaking.

She looked down at the cup of tea in her hands, and then abandoned it on her desk and moved her chair so that she was sitting just in front of Morgana. "What is it?" Gwen asked. "Morgana, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, I'm sure," she said, forcing a small and trembling smile that fell as soon as it was on her face. "It's only – it's nothing, Gwen."

"It certainly doesn't seem like nothing," said Gwen. "If you tell me, maybe there's something I can do to help."

"You'll think that I'm crazy," said Morgana. She blinked, and when a few tears spilled over she wiped them away hurriedly. Gwen grabbed her tissue box, and held them out. Morgana took one with a watery smile, dabbing at her eyes, and then blowing her nose. She gave a depreciating laugh, and said, "Who knows? Maybe I am crazy."

"I doubt it," said Gwen. "Though I can't say anything on the matter unless you tell me what it is."

Morgana was quiet for a long moment. "I've been having these dreams," she said, whispering. "More like nightmares, really. I've had them for as long as I can remember. But…"

When she trailed off, Gwen prompted her, saying, "But?"

Morgana looked up, and met Gwen's eyes. "But recently, it seems as if they've been coming true," she said, all in a rush.

Gwen stared at her for a moment. "Morgana –"

"You see? You think I'm crazy," said Morgana. She rose to her feet. "I certainly feel like I am –"

"Sit back down, Morgana," Gwen said. Morgana paused, and then did. Gwen shifted slightly, and said, "You're going to have to give me more than that."

"What more do you want? I dream things, and they happen. I can't prove it, of course, but it's true all the same," said Morgana. "I dreamt that Niniane would get the head job, and a week later she was given it. I dreamt that Arthur was being sent after a broken sword, and then Leon came down to my offices and handed me just that blade. And…and I've been having these _terrible_ headaches ever since. But that's not all."

"What is it?"

"I've just had a dream, last night, about one of the agents on Arthur's team," said Morgana. "That's why I needed to talk to him, to warn him. The pretty one, with the long hair –"

"Gwaine?"

"Yes, him. Gwen." said Morgana, and her voice broke a little. "I think he's going to die."

* * *

Arthur wouldn't be able to say if the flight to the States was smooth or not – he slept through most of it. He'd been awake for most of the night, kept up by the storm that raged until nearly dawn. Sometimes, beneath the thunder, he could have sworn he heard someone yelling his name.

But that was ridiculous, of course.

The few times he'd managed to drift off, he was struck with more of the strange dreams that he couldn't quite recall. All he had were a few scattered images – riding a horse through a forest. Gwen, Niniane's secretary, wearing a deep red gown and a coronet, smiling at him from across a table. Wielding a sword and charging into a battle. They were just dreams, Arthur tried to tell himself. But they seemed real, and important, though how – he couldn't say.

All the same, he opened his eyes as they landed in Chicago, and found himself feeling well rested for the first time in days, even if the headache was still lurking towards the base of his skull. They'd made their plans before takeoff, and it seemed a fairly straight forward mission, especially considering the past few they had been sent on.

The cup was, apparently, kept in an office on one of the middle floors of one of the skyscrapers, in an office that looked out over Lake Michigan. Just to mix things up, it was apparently hidden in a secret room behind a bookcase.

"Alright," said Arthur, once he judged the building empty enough. They were all sitting at a bus stop, looking nothing more than a group of men on their way home from work, complete with suits and ties. Well, Gwaine looked more a rumpled hobo, in Arthur's opinion, but he'd take what he could get. Arthur had a messenger bag over one side. "We're all clear on the –"

"Get in, get the cup, get out," interrupted Gwaine. "Yes, Arthur, we _know._"

"Get in, get the cup, get out," said Arthur. "Lance, I want you on the roof across the way. Leon, watch the street. If anything seems even the slightest bit off, you report it. Elyan, Percy, Gwaine – you're with me."

Lance meandered away, and Leon unfurled a newspaper. Arthur went in first, smiling and joking with the lone security man as he went about forgetting his paperwork, and was waaved in with barely a second glance. Gwaine and Elyan went in through a side door and met up with him a moment later, and finally Percival – who had drawn the short straw – came in via the fire escape and a jimmy rigged window.

They moved up the stairs until they came to the right floor, and moved silently through the deserted offices. There wasn't even a custodian to be seen. It made the hair on the back of Arthur's neck rise slightly.

But they found the office, and Elyan cut a hole in the wall next to the bookcase. Elyan then cut some wires, and said, "Security disabled," and stepped out of the way while Percy heaved the bookcase out of the way. Sure enough, standing in a glass case in the center of the small, secret room was the golden cup. It was a surprisingly simple thing, Arthur thought as he looked at it, for so much trouble to come and get it.

Arthur gestured, and Gwaine and Elyan broke away, sliding back into the shadows of the dark building. They were to sweep the area for anything or anyone who may be a threat while Arthur and Percy retrieved the cup. Arthur jerked his head, and he and Percy proceeded into the small closet. It was a tight squeeze, but they'd been in worse.

Percy began to work at the screws that kept the cup locked in. Arthur kept staring at the thing, even though he knew that he was supposed to be keeping watch. But the same odd, sickening sort of déjà vu that had struck him with the sword was seeping into his skin once more.

"Percy," said Arthur, frowning. "Does this seem familiar to you?"

"Does what?" Percy asked. He lifted the glass case, and Arthur reached out and picked up the chalice.

"Going on a long trip to get a cup, this cup in particular," said Arthur. His headache was creeping back. Something was missing, though, or maybe more…more like someone? There was no phantom pains, like with the broken sword, but as Arthur gripped the cup in his hand, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had done this before. He stared at the thing, as if it could answer all of his –

"_What part of the word _secret _did you not understand?"_

This time, it was his own voice falling into his mind, like a half remembered dream. The thing was, Arthur had little to no recollection of ever saying such a thing to anyone, not like that.

Percy shrugged with one shoulder. "No, not familiar at all," he said. Arthur started slightly, having completely zoned in on the golden cup in his hand. Percy's eyebrows drew together, and he cocked his head. "Arthur, are you alright?"

Arthur shook himself. "I'm fine," he said. "Signal the others and let's move out."

Percy nodded, and tapped his ear. "We're moving out," he said. "Check in."

Both the agents waited. And waited. And waited. Nearly thirty seconds passed, and no answer was given.

"They aren't answering," said Percy, and looked at Arthur sharply, putting words to Arthur's thoughts. "Something's happened."

An alarm started to blare, and Arthur flinched slightly at the harsh sound. "Get to the street," said Arthur, tucking the cup into his bag. He gave Percy a shove, and said, "Move!"

They took the stairs in leaps at a time, moving quickly but silently downwards. The alarms continued to blare. It was as they emerged from a side door into an alley that three vans screeched to a halt in front of the tower, and at least thirty men went running in through the front door.

"Security," Arthur muttered. Percy grunted slightly in agreement. They went around the back, and circled the block, coming to the bus stop where not only Leon – but Elyan as well – were waiting.

"Where's Gwaine?" Percy asked as they walked up

"We got separated," Elyan said. "A couple of security jumped us by the stairs – they must have called the others. We were leading them away. He went up, I went down, and I lost the one's after me. Gwaine must be –"

Lightening flew down from the sky, shattering a window almost at the top of the building, and the boom of the thunder was deafening. They were all quiet, staring upwards, and then Leon said, "What the hell was that?"

"Hell if I know," said Elyan.

"We have to go in after him," said Percy. "Arthur –"

"We can't," Arthur said, through gritted teeth. To go back in would be suicide, it would be facing capture or death, with the amount of armed gunmen running through the place. God, he thought. They might as well have sent MI-6 for the amount of ruckus they were causing.

"But Gwaine's in there," said Percy. He looked and sounded stricken.

Over the earpiece, Lance said, "He just came out onto the roof."

"We have to get up there," said Percy, heading towards the building. Arthur didn't try to stop him. Even if he wanted to, he didn't think he'd be able to stop Percy, once the man had made up his mind about something.

"I've got a visual," Lance said, and then, "He's up there with another guy. They're talking, and – oh, oh fuck –"

Arthur didn't need to ask what prompted Lance's sudden and uncharacteristic profanity. He could only watch as first one tiny figure, and then a second, tipped from the top of the roof, and hurtled towards the ground fifty stories below.

"What do we do?" asked Percy. His eyes were wild. "What do we do?"

There was nothing they could do. So Arthur looked at Percy, and said, grim, "We go and we get whatever's left of him when he lands."

* * *

Gwaine was having a terrible time.

If anyone on his team had bothered to be around, or if his comm decided to start working, he would have cheerfully informed them of just how terrible a time he was having. As it was, he had no one but his own pretty self and the lovely gentlemen shooting at him to express his displeasure to. So he did. Loudly.

"Come on, you sons of bitches!" Gwaine yelled, fired off a couple of rounds, and dove into a door, which led him to a stairwell. He started to clamor down, but turned at the landing to find six more security guards running up at him. "Oh, come on!"

He turned and ran upwards, past the door he entered through and up another six. He burst out of the stairwell, the security minions close behind him, and found himself in an office. He moved forward, looking for somewhere to hunker down, checking his gun as he went. Out of bullets. He looked behind him to find the six, plus two more, security men piling through out of the stairs. Then he ground to a halt, looking ahead.

Four more were waiting at the opposite end of the office. Gwaine stopped. "Evening, gentlemen," he said with a smile.

Someone's gun fired. The bullet caught Gwaine in the arm, and he dropped his useless gun with a shout. "Damn it," he murmured, stooping behind a desk and looking at the wound. It seemed to be straight through, which was a relief. Still, it hurt like a motherfu –

The windows shattered, and a bright light flashed like lightening. There was a boom, like thunder. Gwaine shoved himself as far beneath the desk as he could. He could hear the shouts of the gunmen, suddenly silenced, and then everything was joltingly, sickeningly quiet. Damn it, Gwaine thought, damn it all, what now?

Footsteps moved towards Gwaine. He grabbed his gun from where it lay on the floor in front of him, and found it as woefully out of ammunition as it had been two minutes ago.

A pair of legs took a step to stand in front of the desk, and Gwaine coiled himself to spring out. But then whoever it was leaned down and peered under the desk, and did the last thing Gwaine expected. He smiled, large and sincere. "So," he said. "It looks like you're in a bit of a pickle."

"Yes. Well," said Gwaine. "Looks like."

He had a mop of messy, dark hair, and bright blue eyes, and was wearing a terribly lumpy wool coat. All in all, he looked more like a student out to the shop than someone sauntering into the middle of a gun fight. He kept smiling a little bit like a crazy person, and Gwaine thought there might even be tears at the corner of his eyes. Gwaine felt a little like the world lurched. He couldn't place it, but he had seen that grin before.

"Hello," he said.

Gwaine scooted out from beneath the desk and said, "Hi. Who are you and why are you here?"

He stared at Gwaine like Gwaine was something impossible. "You mean you don't know me?" he asked. He was barely even blinking, and his mad smile fading. "You have no idea who I am."

"Not even the slightest," Gwaine said.

"Are you alone?" the man asked, and hesitated. He looked almost frightened when he asked, "Is…Is Arthur with you?"

"How do you know who Arthur is?" Gwaine asked. He was just about to ask how the man knew who Gwaine was, as well, but there was the sound of groaning men regaining their wits, and the sounds of more coming from the stairwell.

"Come with me," said the man, hauled Gwaine to his feet by his uninjured arm, and dragged him along behind him. He pulled Gwaine through a door that led to a stairwell, and said, "We've got to get you out of here."

"Fine by me," said Gwaine. "Though down is less than an option than you might think."

"Up it is then," said the man. They hurried up the stairs, and only had to go two flights before the burst through a door on the roof. "This way," said the man. Gwaine had little choice but to follow. Gwaine paused for a moment to barricade the door shut with his empty rifle.

"Where are we going?" Gwaine asked, jogging slightly to catch up. He couldn't shake the déjà vu that had a hold of him with an iron grip. He had met this man before. He'd followed him, he was pretty sure. But he couldn't place it.

"I'm working on that," was all the answer he got.

"And how did you do that, before?" Gwaine asked. "With the light."

"Long story," said the man, but then there was a banging, and shots, and the door they'd come to the roof through was open.

They'd shot out the hinges, Gwaine thought. Damn it.

"Gwaine, get down!" the man yelled, throwing out a hand. Instincts and years of training made Gwaine drop flat on his belly without hesitation. The sharp popping of a machine gun filled the air, and bullets slamming into the wall where Gwaine's head had been but a moment before, and sent dust and scraps of concrete floating down onto his hair.

The stranger yelled something in an odd, grating language. There was a flash of light, like lightening, and just like that the bullets stopped. Gwaine looked up as the man came skidding to his knees next to him. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, shaking Gwaine's shoulder, "Were you hit again?"

"No, I'm fine," said Gwaine, pushing himself up. It was only as he sat up that he realized the man had shouted his name.

"We have to keep moving," said the stranger, standing as well. He was staring at Gwaine with those wide blue like a drowning man looks at a preserver. Gwaine would know. He's both seen that look and given it. He just can't for the life of him figure out why it's being aimed at him right now by this random man who has just saved his life. The stranger continued, "There are at least twenty more coming up the stairs, and between you and me I'm a little rusty at all of this."

"Give me a moment," said Gwaine. His arm was throbbing and his head hurt.

"Gwaine, we have to get –"

"And that's another thing," said Gwaine. "How do you know my name?"

The man's face fell, just like back in the office room. "You really don't know who I am," he said, carefully, and the way he said the words made Gwaine feel like he could make or break this man with a single word.

"No," Gwaine said. He couldn't lie, even though there was something in the back of his mind screaming to do whatever it took to keep this man from harm. Seriously, Gwaine thought, what the hell? What the hell?

The man clenched his jaw and nodded once, shortly. He looked away, and then back at Gwaine, giving him a long, searching look before saying, "But you recognize me."

"Yes," said Gwaine.

The man held out his hand. "Will you trust me?"

Gwaine hesitated only a moment, and nodded, grabbing his hand and shaking it. "What the hell," he said. "Why not?"

"Good," the man said. He smiled a grin that Gwaine could only describe as familiar as he let go of Gwaine's hand, and something in Gwaine's chest lurched uncomfortably. Where did he know this man from? "Because I'm going to push you off of the roof now."

And then he did.

Gwaine didn't even have time to properly yell before the wind rushing past him stole the voice from his lungs. He was going to die. This was it. He was going to splatter on the pavement and die. It was a horribly undignified way to go, he thought, his hair whipping at his face. But then there were a pair of wiry arms around his chest and, holy shit, apparently the guy from the roof had jumped too, and then there was a flash of white light and they were both sitting safely on the ground.

Gwaine couldn't breathe right. His vision was going in and out in a really kind of concerning manner. He should be dead. Why wasn't he dead? How wasn't he dead?

"Gwaine?" the man said.

"…the _fuck_?" Gwaine meant to yell it, but it came out in a strange wheeze of air he couldn't quite get in all of the way.

"Look at me, look at me!" the man said, grabbing Gwaine's face. "Are you alright?"

"What?" Gwaine said. He flailed a little, and bumped his hurt arm, and yelped.

There was a shout. The man looked up, and cursed, and said, "I have to go. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

He gave Gwaine a long look, and squeezed his shoulder, and then vanished in a burst of wind. Gone. Poof. Just like that.

Gwaine stared at the empty patch of air for a long moment, his breathing still coming out in odd wheezes. Then, suddenly, Percy was at his side and in his face, patting Gwaine down with his big hands, searching out injuries, finding none but his shot arm, and stuttering out, "You – but – fell – how – _roof_ – what – are you alright?"

Gwaine looked at Percy, whose face was white and pinched with fear. He shook his head, flopping over onto his back, and said, "Nope," before passing out entirely.


	4. Chapter 3

Title: Say Live and Let Die  
Author: Ultra-Geek/Ultrageekatlarge  
Rating: T  
Summary: Agent Arthur Pendragon and his team are the best the Agency has to offer. But their boss has started sending them on search and retrieve missions after odd things, like a broken sword. Then comes Chicago, and suddenly the game has changed.  
AN: Gwaine's hijacking of the story continues. So it goes. Sorry for both the delay and any typos that may exist.

* * *

"Did you send in the report?"

Arthur turned from where he was standing on the hotel suite's balcony, looking at the Chicago skyline. Leon stood in the doorway that led inside, hands tucked into his pockets. Arthur nodded once, and said, "Yes."

"And?"

"And," said Arthur, leaning on his elbows against the rail, "Gwen received it and said she'd hand it off to Niniane the first chance she has."

"That's not what I meant," said Leon, coming and leaning next to Arthur, his back to the rail.

"You want to know what I said about Gwaine," Arthur said. Leon nodded once in confirmation. Arthur let a gust of air out through his nose, and said, "I said that during complications, he'd been wounded."

"And the roof?"

"I left it out," said Arthur. Leon gave him a look, and Arthur tensed. "Yes, I omitted it. What was I supposed to say? That two men fell off of a skyscraper, one of whom was my agent and appears to have no damage from it and that the other one seems to have vanished completely and we have no explanation for it?"

"I suppose not," said Leon.

"What about Gwaine?" asked Arthur.

"He's confused," said Leon. "We got him patched up just fine, but the last I heard whoever it was took down all of the security guards single handed. With some kind of force field."

"You're joking."

"Were that I was," said Leon.

"And that," said Arthur, pushing himself up and walking back in, "Is why I omitted it from the report."

He shut the door behind him, leaving Leon alone on the balcony. The sun would set, soon, and the air outside was growing cool. As he passed by the door of Gwaine's room, he could hear his two agents talking.

" – got shot, and you lost a lot of blood, mate, you were seeing things," Percy was saying.

"No!" Gwaine answered emphatically. Arthur could picture him waving his arms around, wild eyed and trying to get them all to bid into his latest ridiculous tale. "I'm telling you, he was throwing _lightning_!"

Arthur was about to push in and join the conversation, try and get Gwaine to say something – anything, really – that came close to making sense. His phone, however, vibrated in his pocket. He sighed, and with the mobile held tightly in one hand as it continued to ring, moved off to his room in the suite. He closed the door behind him.

"Pendragon," he said, answering the phone. He expected Gwen, checking in and verifying that Niniane had received the report. He even, maybe, expected Niniane herself, wondering at the deliberately vague parts and demanding an explanation.

Instead he got Morgause.

"Mr. Pendragon," she said. Her voice was as level and cool as it ever was when talking to Arthur. She had never particularly liked Arthur, and Arthur had never particularly liked her either. Morgana told him that he was being ridiculous and that Morgause was a lovely person if he'd only take the time to get to know her. Right. All Arthur needed to know was that she was second in command at the Agency, and while he had no choice in respecting her, he certainly didn't trust her as far as he could kick her.

"Ma'am," said Arthur. He braced himself to be grilled on the report.

Instead, Morgause said, "Niniane is sending you on another run while you're in the States. Lucky enough for us, the target is in a small community an hour from your current location. The specs have been sent and should be in your email. Clear?"

"No," said Arthur.

"What of that wasn't clear, Mr. Pendragon?"

"None of it," said Arthur. "I meant that we're not going."

"It wasn't a request."

"I understand, ma'am. It's only that we had a difficult time of it, today," said Arthur. "As it says in the report, one of my men –"

"And you're going to probably have a difficult time of it tomorrow, too. You're the closest team, and Niniane wants you to go. And if you see a member of your team as unfit, leave him behind and collect him when the thing is done. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Good," said Morgause. "Try not to shoot the place up this time."

She hung up the phone without waiting to hear his response. Arthur slid his mobile back into his pocket with a sigh. Then he went to gather his agents to force them into getting a good night's sleep, for they needed to be well rested come morning.

* * *

_They're sitting by a fire, he and the man from the rooftop. Only he's wearing odd clothes, that scratch, and a sword. The man from the roof is oddly dressed as well, with a brown coat and a bit of brightly colored fabric tied around his neck._

"_Why do you want to do this?" he asks, looking sideways at Gwaine._

_Gwaine shrugs, and says, "Same reason as you. Help a friend."_

_The man huffs, and says with a smile, "Arthur's lucky to have us."_

_Gwaine's never been one to let even a half-truth stand, and so he looks up with a shake of his head and says, "Not Arthur."_

"_I'd do the same for you," his companion says and yet looks surprised, even a little flattered. _

_Gwaine wonders if anyone's ever come to his aid for his sake alone, and he doubts it. The thought makes him sad, and so maybe that's why he adds, "I'd hope so. You're the only friend I've got," when he'd normally keep that tidbit to himself._

Gwaine woke sharply to someone shaking his shoulder. He glared up at Percy, who was looking down at him apologetically. "What?" he asked.

"Sorry," said Percy. "But we've got another mission, and Arthur wants to talk to you before the rest of us go."

"Lemme sleep," said Gwaine, rolling so he was facing away from Percy. God, but his head hurt. It was a dreadful, pounding, awful sort of headache. But then he frowned, and cracked an eye open, and said, "What do you mean by 'before the rest of us' as if everyone minus Gwaine?"

"Talk to Arthur," said Percy, and walked out of the room.

Gwaine sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He pawed through his bag until his hand landed on the box of parcetamol he always kept handy, and then swallowed the tablet dry. As he pulled on his clothes and jerked on his shoes, he thought about the dream. It stood in his mind in vivid detail, as if he'd seen it in a movie or even lived through it. But for all of that, he could not for the life of him come up with a name for the man on the rooftop.

It seemed incredibly important, Gwaine thought, that he should remember the man's name. If he could just figure that out, he felt, and then maybe he could figure out the whole mess.

Getting dressed was a little bit difficult, what with his injured arm in a sling. But Gwaine had managed with worse, and it took a very little time until he was wandering out to where the others were all geared up and ready to leave in the main room of the suite.

"You look tired," Lance said as Gwaine came to stand beside him.

"I feel it, too," said Gwaine. He looked over at his friend. He thought about telling steady, loyal Lance about the dream he had, about how he was beginning to worry that he couldn't tell where the dream ended and reality began. But Lance's big, stupid puppy eyes were wide with worry, and so instead Gwaine just smiled and said, "I'm fighting fit, don't you worry."

Lance didn't look convinced.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Really, Lancelot, relax."

Lance frowned. "Lancelot?" he asked.

"Hm?"

"You just called me Lancelot," said Lance.

"No, I didn't," said Gwaine. "Why would I call you Lancelot? You must have misheard me."

"Yeah, must have," said Lance. He didn't sound convinced, nor did he look it.

"Gwaine," called Arthur. "A moment, please. The rest of you can head out."

Lance gave Gwaine one last lingering, worried look, and then filed out with the others. Gwaine drifted over by Arthur. "What?" he said.

"You're staying behind," said Arthur.

"Like hell," said Gwaine. "I'm fine."

"We need someone to stay and guard the cup," said Arthur. "And you got the short straw."

"We didn't pull any –

"You're staying here, and that's the end of it," said Arthur. "You were shot yesterday, Gwaine. Do try to get some rest, while we're gone. Maybe put together a profile of the other man who fell off the roof."

He clapped Gwaine on the shoulder, and followed the others out.

Gwaine didn't try to rest, just to spite Arthur. He spent some time pacing the suite but soon grew bored of that. He was working on putting Percy's things in Arthur's bag and Arthur's things in Leon's bag and so on when he heard a sort of thudding sound from the main room of the suite.

Gwaine straightened, grabbing his gun with his good arm. He leaned into the doorway. There was a figure, tall and lanky, hovering by the safe that was built into the wall. Gwaine almost passed out when he realized who it was. He lowered his gun, walked fully into the main room, and said, "You!"

The man from the roof startled, fumbling with something in his hands. "Oh," he said. "Er. Hello. I didn't think anyone was in."

"How did you get in here?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said, and when he smiled Gwaine thought it seemed forced.

"I survived toppling off of a skyscraper yesterday. Try me," said Gwaine. Then he noticed that the man was holding the golden cup thing they'd had to nab. "What are you doing with that?"

"What?" said the man, frowning, and then looked down at the cup in his hand. "Oh. Right. This."

"Hand it over," said Gwaine, holding his hand out.

"Can't," said the man. "Why do you want it, anyway?"

"I don't," said Gwaine.

"Your boss, then," said the man.

"I can't tell you that," said Gwaine. Never mind that he didn't know, either. But the man just nodded once, tightly. Gwaine watched him, still with his hand out. The man bounced the cup against his leg. "Look, just give it here."

"No."

"We got it first," said Gwaine, and wiggled his fingers. "So give it to me nice and slow, yeah? Besides, my friends are going to be back at any moment, and they've got a lot of questions for you. Me too, come to think of it."

The man snorted. "They won't be back," he said. "I've made sure of it."

Any sort of good will Gwaine may have had dropped away. He pulled his gun from its holster and snarled, "What did you do to them?"

The man raised his hands, the chalice still clutched in one. He looked, once again, like someone had simultaneously pulled the rug out from beneath his feet and clobbered him over the head. Something in Gwaine's stomach dropped. Still, if he'd done anything to harm Gwaine's team, that was the end of it. "I didn't do anything to them, I swear," said the man. "I just sent them on a goose chase so they wouldn't be here when I came for the cup. Gwaine, on my life, I promise."

Gwaine relaxed slightly, lowering the gun. The man lowered his hands. Gwaine stared at him for a long moment, and said, "Who are you?"

"It isn't important."

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Yes, it is," he said. "Look, either give me the cup back or you're coming back to Base with –"

The man's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I can't."

"You were throwing _lightning_," Gwaine snapped. "You threw me off a building and we both survived, why can't you –d"

"I don't know," the man said, and he frowned, his eyes growing distant. "There's someone very powerful at your base, Gwaine, maybe even more than one person. They were keeping me out. I couldn't – I recognized the spell work, I think, but I can't quite place it. But that's why I can't let you keep the cup."

"Spell work?" Gwaine asked. "What the hell do you mean about _spell work_?"

"Don't worry about it," said the man. "You'll no doubt find out, given time. Of that I have no doubt."

"Stop being cryptic!" Gwaine snapped.

It startled a laugh out of the man. "Apparently it comes with age," he said. "I owe Kilgarrah an apology."

"Who?" Gwaine asked, even though he knew he wouldn't get an answer.

"Like I said, don't worry about it," he got for an answer. But then the man whipped his head around, staring at the door that led out into the hotel's hallway. "They're back. I – I should go."

He turned and walked towards the window like he fully intended to leap from it. Then again, Gwaine thought, considering yesterday, maybe that wasn't entirely improbable. "Wait!" Gwaine said. "I have questions for –"

"And I'm really sorry, but I haven't the time," said the man. He looked again like he was about to cry. "I thought I was ready to talk to Arthur, I thought I could..even if he didn't know who I…I was wrong, and I have to go."

"But," Gwaine said, "But I –"

The man shifted closer, and asked, "Will you trust me?"

It was quickly becoming one of Gwaine's least favorite phrases in the world.

"Are you going to toss me out the window?" Gwaine asked, trying to sound sarcastic and mostly sounding frightened. He was regretting not just letting the man leave.

"No," said the man, and he had the decency to look ashamed. "I'm just going to show you where to come and find me, so that I can answer your questions. Okay?"

Gwaine wasn't sure what part of giving directions involved trust, so past his better judgment he said, "Yeah. Okay."

The man took a step closer, and said, "This may be a little uncomfortable." Then he pressed his palm Gwaine's forehead, and his eyes went gold. Gwaine tried to pull back but found that he couldn't. His feet were rooted to the spot. It felt like a rock was sinking through his thoughts, pushing through in a way he couldn't describe without sounding like an idiot writing poetry. But then, suddenly, the hand was gone and Gwaine let out a gasp.

"What _was_ that?" he asked.

That's how he realized he was alone in the room, a cool breeze drifting in through the open window. The man was gone. The cup was gone. And once again Gwaine had no way of satisfactorily explaining how any of it had happened.

"I'm done trusting you!" Gwaine bellowed out the window. He felt like he was lying.

And then the door to the suite swung open, and Arthur and all of the others came piling back in. They looked muddy and tired and well and truly pissed.

"Gwaine!" said Percy, slapping him on the back. Then the large man frowned. "Why do you have your gun out?"

"Um," said Gwaine."

"Gwaine," said Arthur, slowly and from the other side of the room, drawing the word out the way he did when he was well and truly pissed off about something. "Where is the cup?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Arthur, gesturing at the empty safe. "Where. Is. The. Cup?"

Gwaine blinked once. Twice. A third time. Then he said, "Son of a bitch."

* * *

"Gwen," said Morgana from her desk as Gwen walked up to her. "I don't see you down here very often. What do I owe the pleasure?"

The Department of Evidence and Retrievals was in the basement of the base. It was a large, sprawling warehouse of a place, filled with shelves that went from floor to ceiling. Every shelf was packed with organized, labeled cardboard boxes. The only way in or out, however, was through a single door. And to get to that door, one first had to get past the gatekeeper – Morgana.

Gwen looked Morgana over with a critical eye. She was no longer panicked and out of sorts as she had been in Gwen's office, but she still seemed pale. Worn. Exhausted. Like there was a part of her slowly fading away. It made Gwen's heart ache.

"I've heard from Arthur," Gwen said, smiling.

Morgana's fingers twitched on her desktop. "And?" she asked. "Is everyone alright?"

"I can't tell you everything. Which you know. Obviously," said Gwen. "But there was an injury, but they're all alive and coming home tomorrow morning."

It was like something in Morgana melted. Her shoulders slumped and she rested her forehead against her fingertips for a moment. When she looked up at Gwen, her smile was wide and real, but there were definite tears glistening in her eyes. "Thank God," she said, and let out a laugh. She reached forward and squeezed Gwen's hand in hers. "Thank you for letting me know."

"Of course," said Gwen. She turned and walked away. She pressed the button, expecting that when the doors slid open for the elevator that it would be empty. However, she jumped when Morgause was standing there instead.

"Miss Smith," said Morgause, raising an eyebrow at her and stepping out. Gwen moved to the side to make way for her. "Niniane was looking for you, but you weren't at your desk."

"Right," said Gwen. "I'll just be going upstairs, then."

"Yes," said Morgause. "Yes, I think that would be best."

Gwen watched Morgause's back as she walked away. As the door slid shut to the elevator, a heaviness settled between her shoulders, twisting up, and it wasn't unlike dread.

* * *

_There's nothing he loves more than a good tavern brawl, usually._

_Right now, though, there are seven of them and one of him, and he's tired and a little bit cranky. Gwaine much would rather that they leave him alone, but as the tall bald one picks him up and slides him down a table, he can't really see that happening today. He skids to a halt at the far end of the tavern, and finds himself looking down at a pair of worn brown boots, held together by a series of buckles._

_He looks up to the figure's face, and finds a familiar pair of blue eyes staring down at him. Gwaine is so surprised he can't even quite find the words. Well, he thinks, that's new._

"_Hello, Gwaine," the man says, like he's happy to see Gwaine. Odd. Gwaine can't remember the last time someone was happy to see him._

_And then the smile explodes on his face, because for better or for worse he had come looking for Gwaine, and Gwaine perks up and says, "Hey! Merlin!"_

Gwaine jerked awake.

They were on the plane, heading for home. Arthur had yelled for a bit, until Leon and Elyan had cornered him and talked him down. Lance and Percy seemed more concerned that Gwaine had been harmed in some way, a concern which Leon and Elyan had apparently gotten Arthur to share. Because then Gwaine had been poked and prodded and generally interrogated. The others fanned out, trying to find the man who'd stolen the cup and saved Gwaine on the roof, but to no avail. And so with no cup, and no other mystery object (from the man's goose chase) they were returning to base completely empty handed.

But here, now, on the plane – Gwaine jerked awake.

Like, really awake.

In fact, he rather thought that this was the first time he'd ever been truly awake in his entire life. "What the hell?" he said, patting himself down, searching for a sword and chainmail that wasn't there. But then, he remembered. "Oh, I – I _died_, I –"

Gwaine looked, his eyes landing on each of his slumbering teammates. "Arthur. Percival. Leon – and _Elyan_, and Lance – Lancelot, oh my God," Gwaine said, covering his mouth to try and muffle the manic little giggle that escaped out. "Oh my _God_."

Percival grunted slightly and shifted in his sleep.

Gwaine scrambled out of his seat, and walked quickly down the middle of the plane to the toilets. He shut the door behind him, and turned, leaning his forehead against the mirror. He closed his eyes. The memories were rushing through him now, through some sort of broken dam that had stood in his head. Outside, stretched and sprawled and over seats as they hurtled _through the sky_ – and there was half of Gwaine that wanted to curl up and process that a bit, and half that knew it as an everyday occurrence and both were making themselves known – were the other agents. The other knights. And Arthur. And not a one of them had any clue who they really were. Not even one. Except for Gwaine.

But.

There was something terribly, terribly wrong. Now that he knew it, he couldn't fathom how he'd possibly missed it before. The man on the roof. Who'd come to the hotel suite. Who had been so floored when Gwaine didn't know who he was.

"Merlin," he said, opening his eyes and staring at his reflection like it could answer his questions for him. Gwaine frowned. "But where'd he go?"


End file.
